That Which We Forget
by intallah
Summary: In the forest, a death. Most likely A/U as I am nowhere near up to date on the series.


That which we forget

Her hair fanned out across the slime of mud and dead leaves, her lips already fading to white. The air was getting cold already, he thought, his skin prickling under his thin robe. By night she would be frozen-and then what? He had known her once, although her name escaped him. But he remembered her alive, so now he was struck with the stillness of her, her limp eyelids and fingers already stiff. He knelt over her, reaching out to touch the neat, deep wound at the base of her throat. The blood had stopped pouring; it was dark and thick against the white skin of her chest. He let his fingers linger on her neck, above the gaping puncture, her skin cold and still. He could not remember her name, and it bothered him, because he felt like he should at least manage some respect for her death. Gingerly he lifted an eyelid to find deep brown irises rolling back into her head. Soft eyes, even in death-he could remember her eyes, not her name. She was Hyuga Neji's teammate. He shut his eyes to the memories; he would rather not have them, but they came unbidden. He remembered watching her train once; she was unaware of his presence. Her weapons attacks were flashy, but any shinobi worth their salt would be able to dodge, or deter her. Was she beautiful now? He wondered, searching her lifeless face. But he could not tell, with all the blood drained from her skin and her hair matted with mud and ribbons, all he saw was another horror. He wondered who killed her, seeing her weapons scattered around her, her scroll slashed into pieces. She must have been outmatched. He pictured her fighting to the last second, teeth clenched, gasping as she unleashed every last one of her attacks. He brushed his finger across her throat once more, picturing her falling to her knees, gasping, blood bubbling out from between her lips, pouring from her wound, her eyes wide, frozen in shock. Those in Konoha would weep for her. He withdrew his hand. In life she had been weak, now in death she had strength to her. Would her death bring Hyuga to his knees? She must have been dead a couple hours, where were those who loved her?

Sasuke sunk down, sitting next to the body. He didn't think about what he was feeling. He knew he should be glad that Konoha had lost another soldier, but her death was so jarring to him, despite the hundreds of others he had seen fall. He did not want to leave her body to freeze, to be carried away by wolves or feasted upon by carrion. He looked, remembered the coldness of her skin against his fingertips. He had no desire to touch her anymore. For a moment, he simply breathed, letting himself shiver against the biting cold. He didn't notice the flow of time, shutting his eyes to the world. It could have been hours, judging from the blue tinge that was spreading from her fingertips upwards, her skin even whiter. He sat until he sensed a presence approaching, a familiarly hostile one. Leaping up from his seated position he made a lazy effort to conceal himself, casting a jutsu so the Hyuga would not be able to sense his chakra, and crouching behind a wide, bare tree. It would be easy enough to find him, but he wasn't worried.

"Tenten!" He heard Hyuga's voice through the trees. _Tenten._ That had been her name. Inexplicably he wanted to leap out in front of her teammate, tell him to go no further. But it was too late, in a blur the Hyuga was kneeling next to Tenten's body, pulling her up against him, wordlessly holding her close, pressing her to his chest, his eyes shut tight. Sasuke turned away.

He ran through the trees, determined to push the incident from his mind, gasping in breaths of cold air. He could forget about her, dead on the cold forest floor, forget about the Hyuga's pain, holding her close as though she were still alive, like a lover. It was so easy to forget. He stopped at the edge of the forest, watching the bleak land stretch forward in front of him. Looking down at his hands, he saw a dark smear of her blood. The world seemed to stretch forward in front of him, telling to run and something else. He wiped his hand on his robe, letting the blood stain the fabric. He wanted to run until he could not go further, but that was too easy. Remembering was much harder.

He ran.


End file.
